“Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked, and the twins turned their heads to me in sync.
Myra shook her head. “Not anymore. I feel much better now.” She stretched her arms. “Seems it wasn’t even a sprain after all.”
“It wasn’t,” Cecily chimed in. “I checked her over.”
My gaze flickered between the two girls, and I couldn’t help but feel that something was off about their behaviour.
“We should head back.” Myra fixed the helmet on her head.
“I’ll go fetch Ghost and Acorn,” Cecily called, already moving.
I stayed rooted in my place.What could’ve happened in that split moment I looked away?Something pushed me, almost knocking me off my feet, and I turned, my eyes meeting with Lilith’s. I took an uncertain step away from the monstrous animal, but it followed, slowly driving my attention away from the paranoia creeping up my spine. They were just two seventeen-year-old girls. Hardly a threat.
And yet, something kept scratching the back of my mind, even as I petted the horse’s soft nose.
The shadow appeared again. Myra fell off her horse, flinching in agony from the pain. So how was she smiling and standing on her own two feet only minutes later?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELODIE
Iclimbed the stone staircase to the second floor, my stomach pleasantly full with dinner. Neither of the twins mentioned the accident since it happened, and Myra still appeared to be completely fine.
I opened and closed the bedroom door behind me, and turned the moth-key in the lock before collapsing onto bed. As soon as my back hit the mattress, I flinched and jumped to my feet. A book lay on the silver-embroidered bedspread. My forehead creased.What the hell?
I traced the gilded title, recognizing it as the one I had seen in the library last night.
Tales of Thornhill
I glanced around the room. Who could have left it here? And why? Sitting back down, I rested the book on my lap and gently opened it to the first page.
A shiver, like a cold hand, ran down my spine as my eyes lingered on the yellowed page.Tome of Fates.It was the same title my mum had wanted me to find. I shut the book, putting it aside. If last night was the creation of my imagination, then how could I have even known about this title existing?
The breath I took was almost frosty as I got off the bed. I pulled a warm, stretched out sweater over my head, and slipped into the hallway, ignoring the butler’s warning to not wander after dinner.
The old rug was squashy under my slippers as I made my way toward the library. The corridors tangled around me from the pale light of the candle in my hand. I reached the familiar wooden door, only to find it already open. There was a distant light flickering through the crack, but as I stepped closer the room turned dark. Just as last night. I gently pushed the door in but it still opened with a high creak. Stepping inside, I raised the candle higher above my head, lighting the room with warmth.
Everything was static. There was no sound other than a grandfather clock’s low ticking from one of the close by hallways. I hurried to the shelf where I’d seen theTales of Thornhillbook last night, hoping to find theTome of Fatesthere as well. I ran my fingers over the spines of the books, before I tiptoed up to see the ones on the higher shelves. The hardwood floor creaked under my slippers, and I froze before releasing a nervous breath. The manor was immense. Why was I so afraid of waking someone? I squinted my eyes at the book titles and thought back to my cramped flat, where even a midnight bathroom break could wake the other up.
There was no sign of anyTome of Fatesso far.
The floor creaked again, but this time the sound came from behind me. I spun around, the candle flame flickering out in my hand, plunging the room into pitch-black.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELODIE
Isucked in a sharp breath as darkness consumed my vision. My fingers curled around a thick book behind me, and I was ready to strike, when
a small match snapped to life. Dark green eyes poured into my own. I jerked back, crashing against the dusty shelves.
“Boo!” Preston grinned, his eyes glassy. Maniacal.
I blew out a frustrated breath and let go of the book. “You,” I grumbled, turning my back to him.
“Don’t sound so amused.” He leaned against the shelves beside where I was searching, and raised the match, leaving a smoky taste lingering in the air as his flame brought my candle back to life.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and I huffed.
